


Short stories of the Mystic isles

by Effenay



Category: Original Work
Genre: Collection of short stories, Endowed Beings, Gen, Hidden World, Magic-Users, Mystic Isles, Northern Realms, Other, Psychic Abilities, Short Stories, Strange phenomenons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7979197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Effenay/pseuds/Effenay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>n an alternative reality where myths and legends entwine with reality, there existed an archipelago known as the Mystic Isles. The mass of isles were filled with residents who bore talents that shaped the world for the sake of protecting its anonymity from the outside world. Such talents and endowments were abilities that no normal human being could attain; as their roots were sprung from the environment of the area. Due the unnatural nature of the lands; the native residents were born with a body that does not age for a very long time. Their body clock slows down by the time they reached puberty, as the adolescent stage extends for a span of 50 or less years than that of an average human being. Whether it was out of selfishness or for the sake of the whole world, the Mystic Isles were kept hidden from the outside world for one of these reasons alone. A collection of stories surrounding the world of the Mystic Isle, varying perspectives ranging from the ordinary citizens to the outsiders who encountered this strange world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The lore

**Author's Note:**

> This is just random summary-like plots that I conjured in my head. Less than it is as a short story. If anything, I highly doubt anyone would really read this, let alone really care, but if you are reading this, let me know what you think and drop a comment if need be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lore that my brother and I have planned out in the world of the Mystic isles. Although I did most of the interpretation, both of us agreed that sometimes a good mythos could shed some light to the kind of world the Mystic Isles were said to be.

In the world of ancients where humanity was nothing more than that of an unrefined existence; there was a time when civilization was too young to master the craft of their abilities. During the years when the world was not whole but separate civilizations, there existed a land, uncharted, unused and not cultured by human hands.

Humanity walked upon the frozen seas and encountered a mountain with the highest peak. The lord of life spoke to them; “You shall live upon this mountain by the time the waters shall be receded. And from here on, this mountain shall be your home until the day of reckoning.”

Humanity took it upon themselves to climb the mountain with their own hands; but many plunged unto their deaths before they reached the summit. And so the Lord of Life sent a messenger and granted them wings for them to fly to the summit. The messenger became their guide and led Humanity to the top of the mountain; he taught them how to survive and gave them wisdom and knowledge as he was sent for him to do.

The messenger warned humanity; “I was sent to show you these things for you have the responsibility to carry on what the Lord of Life has planned for you.”

Humanity embraced the task of carrying such wisdom and knowledge and chose to build a nation in that mountain under the guidance of the Lord’s messenger. They built monuments and temples in honor of the Deity that had brought them life and wings as they prospered in the mountains.

Years and years passed; the waters receded, the mountain that had once held humanity became nothing more than a flat land that held more than a thousand denizens. The messenger continued to watch over the people under the guidance of the Lord of Life and watched humanity grow stronger as they expanded their knowledge.

One day, the people had forgotten their place and purpose and discovered ways in which they abused their abilities. A war was raged between the strong and weak. Then the messenger said to the people;

“Denizens, let us not forget what we are here for. Stop this war before a great calamity will befall upon this land.”

The messenger’s words fell on deaf ears. The people were no longer human as they had already lost their ability to reason. With a heavy heart, the messenger reported to the Lord of Life of the events that had occurred. The Lord of life had already understood what had happened; and so, he commanded the messenger;

“With you staff, you shall split this nation into many islands. Strike the center of this nation and I shall grant you the power to pull apart this nation into many tribes and civilizations to stop this war.”

The messenger obeyed the Lord of life’s commands and struck the heart of the land. A great earthquake shook the entire land and spilt the land into many isles. The four momentary towers were sent into different directions; one was to the east, one was to the west; one was to the south and one was sent to the north. Then with a great voice, the Lord of Life commanded that the land shall be hidden from the eyes of the outside world with the help of the four towers. To bring balance unto the newly formed archipelago; the Lord of life sent his messenger to bring forth men who were washed away by sea into these isles.


	2. Driftwood on Callus Shores

The shores of winter in the beaches are a lot colder around this time of the year. Few days before, autumn’s last leaf falls to the ground, billowed by winter’s chill. Winter in the shores of Callus was colder than the urban towns of the capital.

When she was a child, she moved to the coastlines of the Eastern region of the island; there she found the first driftwood on the shores.

A plank as it happens to be; its ridges and knot holes that were embedded onto the surface of the wood made her curious. She looked closer towards the wood and saw gash lines marred into its surface, as if to count the number of days or supplies or objects, or whatever it implies. Seeing how big the plank was, she decided to take it home, dragging it towards her family’s house and offering it as though she found a treasure.

Her parents couldn’t hide their astonishment. Her siblings either jeered or played along with her fascination for the object. Her father decided that since Opris was too young to understand just what it was that she was holding, he decided to accept the plank of wood and turned it into a table for her to use. Had he left it alone, she never would have decided to pursue on a future path of carpentry.

As she grew older, each time she visited the shores of Callus, she would often find something that seemed other worldly in her eyes. Empty bottles; wads of fabric; a wheel with handles around its circumference; sheets of parchment that easily shreds into tiny pieces; containers of clear glass that is lighter than her own pen yet unbreakable when it falls on impact; a human being…

The first time she saw a person upon the shore, she saw his clothes in tatters, a bloodied face and back as the saltwater absorbed the scarlet ink that flowed from him. As naïve as she was still a child, she attempted to carry the man to her home with the ounce of strength that she had.

Giving up on the idea, she left the man there midway away from the shore and the grassy plains and ran to her home to tell her parents the news.

Her parents called the other neighbours to help as they ran towards the shores. By the time they reached him, the birds had begun to feast upon the man’s flesh. Her mother gasped in horror, shielding her little child’s eyes away from the sight.

It was already too late. Opris watched as the black birds devoured the man’s insides.

When night fell upon the shores, Opris didn’t sleep for a long time, despite her parent’s efforts of sleeping side by side with her on their bed. Her parents had already slept, but they held her close; her father’s arm over her shoulder as her mother’s arm rested on the little girl’s waist.

She questioned the matters of what life and death had entailed. How she wondered whether she might have been able to save the man from the birds. Or that the man she found was already dead when he was washed up upon the shores of Callus.

She never understood what it was that made her horrified, or sad, or angry. But the only certainty that had learned from this experience was the amount of love her parents had for her.

After the events of that day, she found herself visiting the shores more often than usual. As though she hoped to find something more than just driftwood on the shores of Callus. For a period of time, no items were found on the beaches. With each passing year, she visited the spot where she found the man, and built a shrine upon the spot where she had found the man. She later found out that the villages had made a grave for him not far from where the shores were. And so she decided to visit him, without ever knowing why.

As it turns out that there were many unmarked graves where the man was buried. She questioned why so many were there. The grave-keeper answered that they all came from a land far away, farther away from the shores and into the unknown world known as the Northern Realms.

That was the first time she’s heard of such a mysterious world. And from that point onwards, she visited the grave-keeper; asking him question just what kind of world the Northern Realms were. He answered each of her questions, telling her of the abundant land mass it has, along with the numerous types of people. That there was no dragons, no talking species, no endowed individuals, no mages, none of the sort that she was familiar with.

“Have you been there?” she asked.

“Yes,” the grave-keeper answered. “But that was a long, long, long time ago.”

Her curiosity made her want to seek for more answers, and as much as the grave-keeper wanted to tell her everything, his knowledge was limited as he was aged and had grown weary over a short span of years.

“Soon I will join these men,” he said to her once. “And when I do, promise me that you will not forget about me.”

She nodded in response, smiling as she did so as she didn’t believe at the time that the man was aging faster than the rest of the people in the villagers.

 “How old are you?” she asked him innocently a few days before he passed away.

“80 years old,” the weary man answered.

She laughed so innocently at the time. “You wish you were 80, you look like you’ve hit your 200th year.”

“A man of the Northern Realms does not live for very long,” his voice croaked. “If he is lucky, the most he could live long enough is 90 years.”

“90 years?”

“Yes, 90. I am too old to cross the sea, and into the home I once lived. I missed them. How much I miss my family, my child, my friends; my students. Perhaps they have already died and that I am the only one left.”

Opris felt the tug in her heart as she saw the grave-keeper sitting by the fence, watching the sea.

“Do you want me to look for them?”

The old grave-keeper turned around.

“I can look for them for you,” she continued. “I’ll tell them that you are here, and maybe, I could let them see you at least once.”

The weary man laughed weakly.

“My name is Travis Andrews. If you are lucky enough to cross the sea; find my son Harris Andrews and tell him that I have done my duty for king and country.”

When the grave-keeper died, Opris was 20 years old, her youthful appearance contrasting to the man who kept her company in the span of 7 years. The grave-keeper, unlike those whose graves were unmarked, was given a marked grave, leaving a simple message on his behalf;

_“A loving father; a friend and scholar._

_May he be remembered by all who loved him.”_

Upon his death, she decided to leave the shores of Callus in hopes of keeping that promise to search for the late grave-keeper’s son. Her family this time was against it.

 _“You are far too young”_ or _“You don’t know what is out there”_ were words that were spoken to her each time she brought it up. For the first time in her life, her parents wouldn’t allow her to have her way of things.

Irrational to the thought, she ran away from home, carrying with her the things that were necessary for her to survive. And there she left the shores of Callus, seeking to fulfil the promise she made.

It took her a few years board a ship to the north; due to the lack of funds, she was unable to leave the island. She remained in the docks of the city for a while, spending years’ worth of carpentry that seemed to have proved her that it was a good source of income. She had begun to doubt herself as to why she would trade this opportunity away for the sake of a promise that had no guarantees for her future, let alone being able to fulfil it.

Nonetheless, as she was finally able to board the ship, she turned to the horizon and watched the sky grow forebodingly dark.


	3. Idellel's sentiments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually a prologue to a long forgotten project I had considered following up until I decided to stop writing it due to how dark and depressing it had gotten along the way. (The rule of Mages its called. The first chapter is up tho) interested? Well, I might consider the possibility of continuing it. At the same time, I don't know how much of my soul can take.

The understanding of life can vary in many different aspects; to kill or be killed; to love and be loved; to need and be needed; to survive despite the many obstacles on the road. Opris denies each aspect as she lived her life for the past four years, living like a walking corpse that has been animated by strings. She fall asleep when she tires; she wakes whenever she is rested enough. Opris knew enough about what kind of life she would be heading if she wasn’t going to do a thing about her lifestyle. But to Opris, none of it mattered anyway.

It has been twelve years since the fall of the last Telenar rule; it was the year 58 of the Reign of kings. Days before the discovery of the new Telenars arose to power, Opris disappeared from everyone’s lives, mine included. At the time, I knew little of Opris; all I understood was that she was never the same by the time she was 18 years of age.

By the time she came back, her eyes wavered when she spoke to me.

“How long has it been,” I said, smiling at the sight of seeing my old friend.

“It has been a while isn’t it?” Opris answered, smiling back. Her eyes betrayed her mouth and voice, for they show no sign of joy.

My grin fell into a frown, saddened and concerned at the changes that I saw before me. The girl that I once knew was less of a face of a puppet, but in her eyes I knew that she had a face that says; “I have seen hell”.

“You must have gone through a lot,” I said bluntly.

“I guess I have,” Opris admitted, her eyes shifted to the direction of the sky.

 _I wonder what had happened_ , I thought at the time, but stashed my curiosity into the back of my mind.

There were so many things that I found out since that day. At a day and age where mages ruled the land; the Telenars of Paratine in the year 58 of the Reign of Kings introduced the art of blood incantations. I found out that my friend Opris was one of the few who survived the sacrificial rituals in the offering of blood to the Kings of Paratine.

“You cannot be serious!” I said, outraged and angered after hearing Opris’s account. I looked up at Opris’ face; her eyes deprived of life.

“How can you be smiling,” I asked, my eyes watering at the thought. “How can you take everything that has happened so lightly?”

Opris widened her grin as her eyes reflected her sadness. In the past, she always smiled before the people whenever she was troubled. Whether she had the intention to hide it or by habit, never once has it brought me to tears.

It was at that point where I held her and embraced her hard.

“It must have been so hard on you,” I murmured.

“Yeah,” she whispered and embraced me back.

That was the last I have seen of her. Opris; a friend whom I knew little about. And yet I was one of the few people who were told of the blood incantation sacrifices. A week after her arrival, she died from blood loss and exhaustion after the incident of the blood incantation rituals and her journey back to her home town. It pained me more knowing that she died without experiencing an inch of happiness; but because I knew little of her, I knew little on how to grieve for a friend whom I only see, hear and speak little to.

The days pass and the world moves forward. As each day passes, my account with Opris becomes less and less important but remained in the corner of my mind; calling me to never forget. Days on end would come when I stopped thinking about her, only to be reminded by the crests of blood that occupied the streets. Every time it happens, I felt that I was given retribution for living another day as if her account was nothing. Many tell me to move forward. Guilt tells me that it is a sin to take a step forward.

It has been twelve years since then. Twelve years forward is when our story begins.


	4. The Starcatcher

Once upon a time, when stars were bright and new; there was a smiling child that gazed upon the silent sky with fascination for the tiny lights that burned so brightly. The child held out a lantern and waved it around as high as he could, trying his best to catch a handful of stars. But no matter how high he could reach, no matter how hard he could swing, he could not catch a speck of these tiny stars.

And then one day, on the night of the moonless sky; the boy climbed up on a hill to try to become closer to the sky; only to find a man holding a swirled staff with a glass prism lantern that hung from his staff. Seeing this, the child asked him;

“Excuse me sir, but are you trying to catch a star too?”

The man looked at the boy and smiled. “Of course,” he replied. “Does that mean you are catching one tonight?”

The little boy nodded. “I’m catching one with these.” He showed the man his little lantern and a hand-sized butterfly net.

The man chuckled and patted the child on the head. “Little man,” he began, “to catch a star will mean a bigger lantern, like this.” He lifted his prism lantern.

The child looked at his tiny lantern as his heart sank. The man smiled at the little boy’s sour face, bent down and said to him; “Sometimes little man, you just have find the right method to achieve something.

He turned to the stars and continued, “Sometimes your perseverance reflects on your choice of methods. Look at you; you came a long way away from your house didn’t you?”

The boy nodded.

“I’m guessing you tried catching them from down there too, right?”

The child nodded again.

“Just because you don’t have the right things to catch a star, it doesn’t mean you won’t ever get the chance,” the man concluded. “If you made a mistake, you try again.”

The man stood up and closed his eyes, lifted his staff and opened his lantern. “Boy,” he said, “Cover your eyes; or else the light will blind you.”

A sparkle gleamed from one of the lights of the sky and fell down like a shooting star and then disappeared. Before the boy knew it, a sphere of brilliant light floated before the man.

“Weren’t you listening?!” the man raised his voice. “Shield your eyes!”

The sphere quickly charged inside the lantern, with the man shutting the lid as fast as he could. He then unhooked the lantern from the staff and with the cloak he wore, he veiled the lantern to hide the light.

“Sir, have you caught one?”

The man turned to the child with his eyes closed. With a sigh, the man replied; “Yes, you may open your eyes now, little man.”

The child turned his head from side to side. “Sir,” the boy said, “it’s so dark.”

“It is night after all,” the man commented.

“But sir,” the boy insisted, “even though that’s the reason, why is it that I cannot see the stars?”

The man frowned with a growing fear. _No,_ he thought, _it can’t be._

“Sir, are you still there?” the child began to worry. “Sir?”

“I’m still here,” the man replied. _What have I done?_ “I’ll hold your hand, okay?”

The child waved his arms around and felt a big warm hand hold his gently.

“Your hand is warm, sir,” the child remarked and paused, “But why are you shivering?”

“It is cold, after all,” the man quavered his speech. Trembling with a heavy heart, he held back tears that were welling up his eyes. “It’s- it is too dangerous for you to walk alone, I’ll carry you.”

“Really?” the child yawned, “Thank you sir, I’m really sleepy.”

The child’s big blind eyes slowly closed shut as the man picked up the boy with one arm. The child then hugged the man’s neck and fell asleep. The man clenched his grip on his lantern, cursing himself in his thoughts.

“What have you done, Starcatcher?”

The man turned around to see a woman holding a lit lantern. “What have you done to this child?”

The man slowly put the child unto the shallow slop of the hill and walked up to the woman. “I’m so sorry,” he uttered regretfully, “The child looked into the star I caught and he-“

“Now he will live a life without sight,” the woman concluded. “What will you do if the child’s parents are to find out?”

“I’m sorry,” the man stifled his cry. “I’m so, so, sorry.”

The woman looked at him with pity and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. Closing her eyes she said; “There is only one solution.”

* * *

 

The man placed the child in bed and placed a blanket over the boy. Outside the room, the boy’s mother sobbed with the father comforting his wife.

“This man meant no harm, I promise you,” the woman assured with ease, “Your child and this man was simply in the wrong place and in the wrong time.”

“What is to become of him?” the mother snapped, “think of how my son will feel if he were to wake up the next day and to see nothing?!”

The woman fell silent, biting her lip as if it were a way of holding back. The man turned around to the parents and fell on his knees before them.

“I understand the pain that this family will bare because of my actions,” the man spoke gravely, “I do not deserve your forgiveness for the sin I have committed. But at the very least, I only ask that I will bring your son’s sight with the star that took his sight from him.”

The mother stopped as the father took his hands away from his wife and walked up to the man. “What do you intend to do in order to restore my son’s sight?”

“I will crystallize the star in a form of a jewel,” the man explained. “With my abilities, I could replace your son’s eye with this jewel so he could see.”

Before the mother could retaliate, the father intervened; “How can you be sure our son will survive this method?”

“I promise you, I will regain your child’s sight,” the man swore, with his eyes fixed on the father’s eyes.

“Then do what you must,” the father said, “I don’t want to see my child living in fear of the endless night.”

The man stood up and turned to the sleeping child. From where the parents and the woman had seen, the man bent down before the boy. A faint glow was then seen behind the man’s body, only to fade back into his shadow.


	5. The prelude of the Mountain Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another prologue to a very old story project I wrote (but never finished) when I was in Year 8 or year 9 in high school. Before there was Elsa, there was the Snow Queen. The Snow Queen since the beginning was my favorite fairy tale and before I knew it, when I was still in year 3 I created a character who had the power of winter in her hands. Funnily enough, I did create three other characters for all the seasons but the winter girl stood out to me the most in the test of time. Somewhere down the line I made her queen and my brother actually added parts to the importance of her character in the vast world of the Mystic Isles.

_“Savalin of Savalins, son of the first Telenars of old;_

_No longer will you breathe the breath of life’s joy_

_No longer will you feel the warmth of one’s hand_

_Forever alone will you dwell amidst the shadows of death.”_

Upon the night skies of the highest peak, a cloud brews a storm that fell upon the northern mountain. For four days now, endless petals of snow covered the mountain. Outside of the castle wall were empty, damp brick houses that stood against the harsh winds. Layers of snow piled up one after another, as it gradually raises against the firms walls. No commoner or noblemen took shelter in these houses, as the king and queen decreed to pull every last resident into the castle for their own safety. The entire Northern Kingdom that sat at the top of the mountain’s surface sung a cheerful song within the castle walls despite the harshness of the eternal winter that dominated the kingdom.

_“Not a flake of desperation takes us down into depression,_

_As the fire bearer’s mother often says_

_Tell king to find us order as the children are all hoarders_

_So he took us one by one and here he says;_

_‘I say share each other’s glory and we’ll make a brand new story_

_Of a kingdom without class or noblemen  
I may still remain as leader and as your mediator_

_So for now we play this song just once again!”_

 

Outside the kingdom’s great marble walls, a woman trudged through the thick layers of snow, clutching a thick animal pelt that was rolled into a bundle. Endless showers of snow did not help her vision, yet marched onwards towards the distant light from the castle’s tower.

“I’m sorry my love,” the woman said in weary whisper, “I’m so sorry. Just a little further-“

The woman stopped and stared as she saw a man garbed in regal robes walking towards her. He held a staff, ornamented with jewels that emitted a strange glow. The man’s face was serene and pleasant, and with a smile he took her hand and said;

“Your journey is now over, now come with me.”

The woman was so entranced by the man that when she held his hand she suddenly felt lighter. Before she knew it, she saw herself lying on the snow and the man standing right next to her body from a high angle. She then realised what was happening and said;

“No, wait! What about my child? I can’t just leave her behind?”

The man looked up to her and said; “Do not worry; your child will be taken care of. Now, you have done your part, I pray that you may gain the eternal rest that you have always deserved.”

The woman smiled sadly and floated down as the man picked up the bundle and removed the pelt to reveal an infant girl, crying and wailing. With her transparent body, she kissed the infant on the forehead and disappeared.

“Child of the winter,” the man spoke softly to the child. “One day, we will meet again when you will be queen.”

He then placed his thumb on the infant’s forehead and rubbed it gently. When took his thumb away, a mark was made on the infant’s forehead, only to disappear shortly after.

*****

The castle guard on duty rubbed his two hands together and sparked a small flame to rekindle the dying fire due to the soaked firewood. He gazed out into the distance, lights shimmering from the mainland below him like starlight shimmering in a blanket of grey. It only took him a while to hear a faint cry from a distance. He looked below to see a figure of a man lifting another person from a distance, only to disappear from sight right after; leaving behind a small bundle.

Realising where the cries came from, the guard shouted to the people below;

“Open the gates!”

“What?!” a voice shouted back.

“Don’t ‘ _what_ ’ me, there’s a baby outside the castle walls!!”

The guard took the horn that hung across his shoulder and blew it hard as the men bellow struggled to open the gates as the snow piled up against the great doors. By the time the gates were opened, the guard climbed down from the watch tower and ran across the snow; trudging through it as the snow had already risen up to his waist. He followed the sound of the infant’s cries until the he could hear the wailing loud and clear.

A hand full of soldiers caught up to the guard and looked at him. “Well, don’t just stand there,” the guard who saw spotted the infant first said urgently, “Find that child! Dig through the snow with your hands!”

The men dug through the snow, layer by layer it slowly descended until the guard decided to heat his hands to melt the ice; revealing the infant.

*****

The guard strode as quickly as he could, his cape and ethak soaked through; leaving a trail of small puddles wherever he turned. The fires that reside on the walls flickered and snared with each passing step he made.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lord Raul said in outrage.

“I will accept punishment later, Raul,” the guard said as he stormed past Raul with the infant in his arms.

“Warick, come back here!” Raul’s voice echoed across the marble halls.

He took a turn to the royal chambers and slammed the doors open.

“Please forgive me for opening the gates when it was forbidden to do so,” the guard burst in an urgent voice as he knelt down while holding the baby so close, “But during my time of duty, I spotted this baby in the snow outside the gate. So please, I beg of you; save this child!”

The king, who happened to have stood close to the weeping queen strode towards the guard and bent down in front of him. With his calm, stern tone the king said;

“Hand over the child, Warick and call out the healers.”

The guard looked at the king in the eye, nodded and took off as the king looked down upon the infant. The king then unbundled the child out of its pelts and looked to the queen and said to her;

“The poor thing is shivering; we need to bundle her up with something warmer.”

The queen nodded took off her cloak and bundled the child with it as soon as the king gave her to the queen. As the queen held the child in her arms, warm tears rolled down her cheeks and held the infant close.

“So this is what it is like,” the queen whispered loudly as she choked on her tears, “To hold a child at last, after three years.”

The king felt his queen’s pain and held her close in comfort. “It was not your fault,” the king assured repetitively; “It was never your fault. Stop blaming yourself, because you are not the one to blame.”

“Sire,” the guard came back with three other men behind him, “the healers are here.”

“The child is as cold as ice,” the king said to the three men, “Please, I beg of you, do the best you can to save her.”

“They will do everything they can, King Oliff,” one of the three men said.

The queen then kissed the child on the forehead and passed it down to one of the other three men. The three healers then left with the child to begin their healing session.

“If you may, King Oliff,” the guard said, “Lord Sacrom and another guest wishes to speak with you.”

A cold breeze blew softly as Lord Sacrom strode towards the door, with a hooded man following him. The king sensed the urgency of Sacrom’s stern face and turned to the guard.

“Leave us,” The king said to the guard. The guard bowed and strode to the exit, leaving the couple with the two men in the room.

“Oliff, there is something we have to tell you,” Sacrom began, “something important.”

The man behind Sacrom pulled back his hood to reveal a familiar serene face. Immediately, the king and queen bowed down before the man on their knees.

“Oracle,” the king said grandly, “what brings us the honour of your visit?”

“No formalities, Oliff,” the oracle began, “Where is the child?”

“She is being taken care of,” the queen said. “She was cold as cold as ice.”

“Healers cannot make the child recover from her original state,” the oracle said sadly.

“What do you mean?” the king asked.

“The child will live,” the oracle explained. “But she will forever remain cold as ice. The child was exposed to the blizzard far too long. By the time I was close to arriving at the castle walls, I found the mother of this child at the brink of death, trying to seek for shelter. I saved this child by granting her the gift of winter.”

“Well, what on earth could you gain if you hold the power of winter in this mountain that only snows?” the king asked.

“I gave her winter so that she may become one with the environment,” the oracle said, “But there is a brewing threat that will come one day. And by the time it happens, she will be needed.”

The oracle bowed before the royal couple briefly and straightened his posture as he slipped his arm beneath his robe. He then presented a silver key, its sheen faded into a pearl-like luster.

"Give me your hand, my lady," the oracle commanded.

The Queen obeyed and stretched out an open hand to the oracle.

"When she is of age," -the oracle rested the key onto the woman's hand- "You will give this to her; and she will be told of her duties as a monarch of this mountain. Tell her all of its secrets as well as the reason as to why the Northern Mountain of Gildaar will forever snow. Her duty as queen will lead this kingdom into prosperity despite its harsh conditions."

The oracle smiled before them, a smile that could only mean farewell.

"Where will you go, Oracle," the king asked him. "Gildaar needs you right now. The land bellow is in dire need of your guidance. Our endowed people are hunted by blood mages and so many of them flee to our borders, but so few of them are able to reach out summit."

"Where I go is for the sake of this archipelago," the oracle reverently answered. "I am still seeking for the true successors to the Telenars' throne. There are places I need to be where there are people who need my aide. Until the time comes, raise the child well and she will aide this land under her rule. As for the endowed; they will endure and they will be saved. There are still many others who are protected in the custody of others."

"But we need you here," the king pleaded.

The Oracle sadly smiled.

"There is only one oracle on this earth," he said. "One messenger. But do not fear. Help will come on the days where aide is needed the most."

With those words, a cold wind blew softly in the room, flickering the fires within the fireplace. The oracle bowed before the royal couple once more as he faded into the background.


	6. Conversations in the sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In context of the girl's endowment, she could speak to animals. Unfortunately, I didn't know how to add that into this short story without ruining the flow of the scenario, so this is just a head's up.

He watched over her since the beginning of her days. A young, naïve recruit who had nothing to her name. She made peace with her own conflicting views about herself and was determined to see how long she would be able to withstand against the views that the world had to offer.

He, on the other hand, could only watch and anticipate the pain that she would have to undergo in order for her to see what it is like to be in the line of duty.

“Tell me something,” she said as she dragged a ragged cloth against the metal plates.

“What is it that you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, just say something. Talk to me.”

He eyed her profile that stared into the distance; her gaze fixated on the stains of her armour.

“Your hands are shaking,” he said.

“…Oh.”

She raised her arm up before her eyes, her hand trembling uncontrollably. She winced at the sight, chuckling as she did so.

“This is bad isn’t it?” she said. “If I keep having these spasms, people might begin to suspect…”

He nodded at her words, acknowledging fully well of the circumstances that had to do with her cause.

“What do you think? Do you think I should turn myself in?”

It was obvious to him that she didn’t want to give up, but she knew her limits were beginning to reveal itself.

“Don’t,” he replied. “Not yet. Not until you’ve fulfilled your objective.”

“You are terrible, did you know that?”

“It’s my duty,” he said. “If there’s anyone who’s to blame for it; that would be yourself.”

With her hand raised before her eyes, she clenched it into a fist; slamming it onto her lap.

“Had I known you don’t like mincing words,” she scoffed bitterly at his words. “I would have chosen a wittier guardian to aide me.”

His response was a cold silence as he watched her resume cleaning her armour plate.

In the very first place, he was anything but a guardian; secondly, the brotherhood that he was affiliated with wasn’t exactly something where any child was given the luxury to choose anyone as a guardian. But since she was special, since the very beginning, he had no choice but to comply with her wishes.

“The Eagle’s Council,” she said aloud. “If there was any flaw that it has, what part of the council would you want to see it change?”

He cocked his head to the side, blinking at her words questioningly.

“Nothing,” he answered. “Nothing at all.”

“Nothing?” she parroted.

“Nothing,” he bobbed his head in confirmation.

“Pity,” she pouted her lips. “If anything, I would free you and the rest of your kind. That way, you wouldn’t have to carry your ancestors’ burden like a millstone around your neck.”

This time he scoffed at her words.

“Sometimes privileged children like you couldn’t understand what it means to take an oath,” he said, scuffling on the ground as he picked himself up. “My father, my father’s father and all the predecessors before me have carried out this line for generations. To immediately dismiss the promise that was made to my ancestor by abandoning my duties is no different than throwing away my identity as a knight to the council.”

“But don’t you want to live your own life?” she asked naively.

“I do,” he answered. “And how I want to live is by keeping my oath as what was done by my ancestors.”

“But,” she said pityingly. “You aren’t free.”

“Mages have tattoos; the endowed have inborn abilities,” he began. “Who’s to say that we aren’t free from the very function that makes us who we are?”

“But mages aren’t born with tattoos.”

“No,” he corrected her. “The very moment an unendowed made the decision to don incantation tattoos to become a mage, that unendowed will no longer be an unendowed; but a mage.”

“I don’t like where this conversation is going,” she said dubiously.

“You asked me to speak,” he said. “And now I am speaking to you.”

“Do all of the knights of the council think like this?”

“Not always.”

“Good then.” She nodded. “Well, then. Let’s talk about something else.”

“…What do you want me to talk about?”

“Anything,” she said, raising the armour plat before her at an arm’s length. “Anything that is anything that has nothing to do with Mages, the endowed and unendowed, the winged folk, the faux Telenars, the Council, the-”

“Basically nothing at all,” he concluded.

“No,” she laughed. “I’m talking about you, silly. What I wanted to hear from you is how your life has been; what you like, what you don’t like, what makes you tick and everything that’s happened to you.”

“How could I talk about my life if my life is centred on the very things you told me not to talk about?”

“You’re no fun, did you know that?”

“I cannot exactly comprehend your definition of fun.”

“Pity,” she shrugged, setting the armour aside.

Across the horizon, he saw the sky painted into a soft magenta as the sun slowly crawl into the earth. He knew that it won’t be long till his ancestors’ blood would take its course.

“An endowed child such as yourself shouldn’t be talking to strange birds,” he said. “Especially birds like me.”

“But you aren’t strange at all,” she said. “You’re the night-flier. The bird that grants wishes. But to think that the night-flier turns out to be an endowed being such as yourself.”

“Human-shapeshifter,” he corrected. “Unlike you lot who were born within the Mystic Isles, my ancestors were from the Northern Realms.”

“But the fact that you were born here would make you an islander,” she insisted. “Heritage is not exactly what defines you as a person.”

“But neither does being an endowed either. What I don’t understand is how is it that you lot would make a name for yourselves in accordance with your abilities? Is that truly necessary?”

“Then how do you define a person if not by their abilities?”

He raised his chin as he tried to think of an answer.

“Birds have wings,” he suddenly said. “But not all birds can fly. Humans have two feet. But not all of them can walk. Although I say that we are slaves to the very function that makes us who we are, but that’s the thing: even if we are born with such abilities or physical appearances, it doesn’t stop a person from deciding not to use the very function that was granted to us.”

“Your point?”

“We cannot limit the definition of ourselves by our abilities. It’s that simple.”

“In theory,” she smirked. “Alright then, flier, then how do you define a person if not by their abilities?”

“Your name.”

The girl blinked.

“Huh?”

“I define a person by their name,” he said in a matter-of-factly fashion.

She gave a dumbfounded, yet pondering look.

“You’re right,” she said. “It is too simple.”

He turned his back to her and began climbing up the stony hill.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“The moment the shadow of the night hits, I won’t be able to speak,” he quickly said.

“Don’t leave me here alone,” she said. “The armour’s too heavy for me to carry with me.”

He cocked his head towards her direction. He looked at the pitiful size of her stature, making an unconscious juxtaposition towards the clunky, metal plates she had just cleaned.

He sighed despairingly.

“Hand them over,” he said. “I’ll carry them up.”

“But I-”

“Just hand them over,” he insisted.

Reluctantly, she carried the plates to his feet. He plucked a strand of air from his head, and within an instant, it grew longer and thicker until it transformed into a long yard of rope.

The girl couldn’t hide her fascination at the sight of his abilities; her eyes glittering with awe as her hand reached for the rope in his hand.

Taking note of her expression, he warily said to her;

“If you ever think about plucking one of my feathers, I will throw you off the edge of a cliff.”

“I didn’t say anything!” she defended.

“That face of yours tells me that you’ll be up to no good.”

His words brought her to hide her hands behind her back. He raised a brow as he wound the rope around the plates of armour into a bundle. After he secured the plates, he hauled them and tied the bundle on his back and began to climb the hill.

With every stone he touched, it formed into a stub for the girl to have a firm grip to cling onto.

 _There’s got to be a limit to how this whole wish-granting ability could be used._ He dreaded the thought.

“Flier,” the girl hollered bellow him. “How many other night-fliers are there in the Eagle’s Council?”

“I’m the only night-flier in the Eagle’s Council,” he shouted back. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.”

He looked to the horizon, the sunlight gleaming into his eyes. He knew he had to hurry before the twilight reaches the horizon line. He looked up to the hill top and estimated the distance between where he was and the hill’s summit.

“I’ll have to go on ahead,” he said, scurrying his way up.

“Huh?”

“Later, my time’s almost up,” he quickly said as continued to climb up.

The night shadows began to climb onto the surface of the hill; the twilight of the setting sun glittering in his view. For the first time in a long time, he was dreading the sunset and the coming dusk that eerily approaches them.

He felt his joints becoming stiffer in his lower limbs, signs of his body slowly changing its shape. The clothes that he wore slowly thinning with each passing second.

Just when he thought that he wasn’t going to make it, his hand touched the surface of the summit.

With his two hands, he clenched at hard surface and hauled himself up to the top and rolled as soon as he carried his weight onto the plateau. He gasped for air at the exhaustion as he undid the knot of the rope and laid the bundle onto the ground.

The golden beams of sunlight casted a long shadow of his figure, the shape of his body slowly contorting itself into a shorter and rounder stature.

“I… might… need a little bit of help down here,” the girl hollered from the edge of the hill.

He groaned in response and walked to the edge of the hill, only to find that the girl was only a few metres away from the summit.

“Can’t you… pull your own weight for once?” he asked sardonically.

“If I was alone, I would,” she retorted as she struggled to reach for the next stone. “But since I’m not, why wouldn’t I take advantage of the situation?”

He frowned as he extended his hand to her. The girl grasped his hand as he hauled her up to the summit.

“There you go,” he said at the very moment her feet touched the ground.

Her eyes then darted towards his legs.

“What is it-”

He looked below and saw his legs and feet had already taken the shape of that of a bird’s.

“…Oh...”

The girl tried to stifle her laughter.

“Hey, that’s not funny,” he chided.

“I’m so sorry,” she laughed all the more harder. “It’s just that… it looks so ridiculous!”

“Please don’t.”

Seconds later, he saw his arms slowly being covered with feathers as his line of sight gradually lowering until his eye-level was that of the girl’s height. The girl in turn watched as he morphed into a child-sized owl-like creature.

“It always fascinates me to see it happen before my very eyes,” she beamed.

With his newly formed beak, he tried to say something, only to screech and chirp at her.

“Wait just a moment,” she stopped him. “I can’t hear you properly with that screech of yours.”

He grumped at her words.

 _“Can you stop treating me like a caged beast?”_ he chirped.

“I can’t help it,” she said. “You can’t expect people to behave like you if they see a person morphing into a feathered beast.”

 _“Bird,”_ he screeched. _“Refer me as one of those mindless animals, I will push you off the edge.”_

“You and I both know that you can’t do that, even if you wanted to,” she said mischievously. “You’re stuck with me until I’ve completed my objective, remember?”

 _“No, but I can make our journey into an unpleasant one,”_ he squawked.

She sat down on the ground, watching the scenery taking its shape as her eyes dazzled at the sight of the horizon. Dusk had already arrived as the remnants of sunlight faded into the dark, velvet sky.

“I like these sights the best,” she sighed. “Those moments just right after the sun sinks into the earth.”

 _“…I used to dread them,”_ the bird chirped as he waddled to sit beside her.

“What about now?” she asked.

_“I don’t mind them as much.”_

She smiled at his words and lunged herself onto his pudgy frame.

A squawk came out of his shiny beak.

 _“What are you doing?!”_ he screeched in her ear.

“Who would have thought that the Night-flier would be this fluffy!” she gleefully said.

_“Human hands off!”_

“Not a chance.”


	7. The watcher by the sea (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I wrote this plot which was a rewritten version of my old story when I was in year 7, I realized that this plot has almost the same premise as that of 'Sorites Paradox.' Well, that is purely a coincidence, but, I will say that for the most part that these characters I introduced were one of my oldest characters I've ever written. For many reasons, this 'short story' was far too long in the standard of online posting, so I decided to release this in parts. How many parts I will write, I do not know, but for now, enjoy yourselves!

Reina had two things in mind. First: get out of this island. Second: stay as far away from it as much as possible.

An older boy slammed her head onto the dewed grass, another boy continued to jeer at her sunken state. A few girls who were possibly around her age or better still, older than her continued to watch at their own amusement.

“Your mother should have died like the rest of you invaders!”

“Your father is a traitor!”

“Half-breeds should not existed!” the older boy taunted her. “Half-breeds like you don’t deserve to eat.”

She hiccupped her cries as he yanked her long-flowing raven hair.

“Half-breeds like you, don’t deserve a paladin’s mane!”

She screamed at the pain from his grip.

“Shut up! Half-breed don’t deserve to be heard!”

Reina received a blow from the other perpetrator, bringing her to choke up her cries.

“You should not have existed!” the boy who delivered a severe blow to her abdomen added to the taunting. “Star-eating muck!”

The rest of the onlookers giggled and laughed, a few of them wolf-whistled. Terror. Fear. But most of all, hatred. The band of children who surrounded her brought her shadow to grow larger by the second. An ominous growl rumbled out of thin air. Her limbs shuddered violently, her heart palpitating as she let the shadows of her heart take control of her movements. All of a sudden she gained an overwhelming ounce of strength, enough for her to claw at her perpetrator by the arm.

Her icy blue eyes in contrast to her dark complexion darted a cold glare at her opponent, her hand tightening its grip till his hand slowly lost its colour. The boy gagged and gasped as the casted shadow slowly climbed out of the ground and stood up.

The onlookers screamed. The two boys who physically tortured her attempted to back themselves away from her. But it was too late. The shadow had a tight grip of the two boys, clads of smoke-like shadows slowly enveloped them.

“That is enough!”

A great billowing wind set Reina off-balance, bringing her to snap out of her shadowy state. Almost immediately, the smog of shadows dispersed into the air, leaving the two boys trembling on their knees. Reina turned her head to the direction of the owner of the voice; only to see a woman, clad in foreign clothes, vivid green eyes and tied back hair. In her hand was a sheathed blade engraved with grotesque patterns, her other arm gripped a wide shield.

“Let go of them, child,” the woman commanded. “Or else you will be consumed by the shadows that resides within you.”

The girl released the older boy from her grip, sending the two of her perpetrators to scuttle away from her.

The woman then tied her scabbard to her waist, setting her shield on her back as she approached the child.

“Reina Orion,” the woman said as she bent down to the girl’s eye-level. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to be with you after your parents’ passing.”

Reina’s vision blurred as the tears began to flow.

“P-Polaris,” she hiccupped as she clung onto her guardian whom she hadn’t seen for almost an entire season.

“I’m so sorry, Reina,” the woman embraced the little girl and cradled her in her arms as she stood up. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

* * *

 

Polaris carried the child in her arms, Reina’s small arms clinging onto the clothes on her back. Small sobs escaped from her as the woman walked them towards the shores by the sea.

From where they stood, silhouettes of neighbouring islands could be seen just by standing within the Berenian shores. The sound of crashing waves filled the air as the billowing sea breeze slowly melted the pain in little Reina’s heart.

“Look at that, Reina,” Polaris pointed at the sky. “Look at the sky.”

Reina lifted her head up and saw a sparkle glinting on the sky. Moments later, a great, silver-feathered bird swooped down and landed a few meters away, chunks of wet sand splayed into the air towards their direction. The child yelped in fright and clung onto Polaris’s neck. Polaris laughed at the child’s frightful expression.

“What’s wrong, Reina?” she said melodiously. “Don’t be afraid, he’s a friend. See?”

The silver bird was twice the size of Polaris, its head was adorned with a feathered crown, its body was likened to a pigeon’s breast and its wings tucked itself behind its back. Reina peeked at its splendour, its silver feathers refracting the light from the sun, stinging her eyes.

The bird seemingly took note of the glaring light on the child’s eye and waddled towards the shadows of the trees.

“There,” Polaris assured her. “You see? He’s a good friend, he won’t bite.”

Reina slowly loosened her arms around the woman’s neck. Polaris took a step closer towards the silver bird, only to have the girl instinctively hug her by the neck. This brought Polaris to laugh once more.

“It’s okay,” Polaris said. “He’s a good bird.”

“I’m not your pet you know.”

Reina lifted her head and gaped at the silver bird.

“What’s wrong kid? Is this the first time you’ve seen a talking bird before?” the bird spoke carelessly.

What boggled Reina the most was how eloquent the bird was at his words.

“Don’t scare her, Aquila,” Polaris chided. “She’s still shaken about what happened earlier.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” the bird retorted.

“…Polaris, can you put me down?”

Polaris turned to the child.

“Are you sure?”

Reina nodded.

Polaris then bent down and loosened her arms around the child, allowing Reina to settle onto the ground. Almost immediately, the little girl sprinted towards the silver bird.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” the bird waddled backwards as the girl slowly approached it, instinctively spreading its wings in self-defence.

The girl stopped at her tracks the moment it spread its wings, she jerked the moment the bird opened its mouth.

“Wh-what are you doing?” the bird asked in a panic.

The little girl paused for a moment then raised her arms into the air.

The bird seemingly appeared puzzled by the sudden gesture and turned towards Polaris.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” the bird asked.

“She wants to hug you, silly,” Polaris bluntly answered.

The bird bobbed its head down to Reina, then returned its gaze to Polaris. Polaris then made a silent gesture to the bird to let the girl have what she wants.

The bird then turned to the girl who stood a few paces away from her and tilted its head to the side.

“Well why didn’t you say so?” the bird reluctantly said as it waddled towards Reina.

The girl took wide steps towards the bird and touched the silver feathers. The bird then sat on the ground, allowing Reina to revel at the feel of its soft feathers. The girl then stretch out her arms and clung to the bird’s body, rubbing her cheek against the softness of its breast.

The bird then darted a look at Polaris, which Polaris in turn smiled in reply.

“This kid,” the bird said. “You came from hell and back just to get to this kid?”

Polaris walked towards the two of them, as she answered;

“I made a promise I was about to break if had I come too late.”

“It’s okay Polaris,” Reina said as she buried her head against the soft feathers. “As long as you’re here, everything’s fine.”

Polaris sadly smiled at the little girl’s words. The bird gave a concerned look.

“That’s right, Reina,” Polaris said as she stroked the girl’s hair. “I promise I’ll stay with you until you’re old enough to make a decision.”

The bird then gave a light tap on the girl’s head with its beak.

“So how long are you going to cling onto me?” the bird asked.

Reina looked up at the bird’s glossy eyes. The bird in turn had one eye looking down on the little girl.

“Aquila,” Polaris said. “Don’t be rude.”

“I’m asking a general question.”

Polaris then bent down to the girl’s height, bringing Reina to let go of the bird and turn around to face her.

“Feeling better?” Polaris asked her, her green eyes flecked from head to toe to see if she could see any signs of scars that she had missed.

The girl nodded.

“Are there other scars that I should be concerned about?”

Reina shook her head.

“Are you sure?”

Her reply was a single nod.

“Alright,” Polaris then picked up the girl, much to Reina’s surprise. “Let’s go. Aquila, come along.”

The woman allowed Reina to find a more comfortable position in her arms before she resumed her walk along the shores.

Reina Orion was said to be an impossible child, born out of the consummation between a Starcatcher and a Berenian; she became known as a hybrid that should not have existed. With a few generations before, Starcatchers attempted to invade the island of Berene in hopes of setting up colonies for their ill-fated race. Only to have every tribe that resided in Berene to either cast them out or kill every one of them on sight. But to the young Reina, none of this conflict made sense to her innocent mind; the only thing that’s ever made sense to her was that the world was against her very existence.

As Polaris carried her to her shelter, the song of the sea and the warmth that she provided Reina was enough to lull the child to sleep. The silver bird trailed behind them, waddling ever so close to the two to act as their wind breaker against the sea breeze.

“Polly,” the bird said lowly in hopes of not waking the child. “I hope that you aren’t using the child as an escape from everything that’s happened.”

“Maybe I am,” Polaris hummed. “Maybe I just don’t want to see the same thing happen to Reina the way it happened with me.”

“How small minded of you. You know that no matter what you do now, it won’t change the fact that those days won’t ever come back. _Once the apple is ripe, no man can turn it back to a greening_.*”

Hearing those words, Polaris chuckled at the thought that a bird could tell her such a thing.

“Since when did you learn how to think of such a proverb?”

“I didn’t think of it,” the bird commented. “Someone read it to me.”

* * *

 

Although it was still day break, Polaris let the child sleep on the only bed inside the small shack of a home. The bed was made from the loose feathers that the silver bird had shed, much to Aquila’s discomfort. The shack was situated on the top of a small hill, hidden in view by the large boulders that became the base of its foundation.

It was a common practice for Berenians to set up their homes against enormous stones as their base, adding wood and weaving fallen leaves in or out or around the boulders to create an enclosed, oval space for the residents to inhabit.

Polaris couldn’t help but recall the day when she had first crashed into that specific beach and assisted Reina’s parents in building that shack. After the death of Reina’s parents, she took care of the child, only to disappear for an entire season for reasons she couldn’t bring herself to name.

But none of that mattered to her anymore. None of it mattered. She came back, and that was enough reason for her to stay.

The silver bird waddled inside the shed, seemingly surprised how it managed to slip inside of the humbling-sized space.

“Palus made sure that you might be able to fit inside,” Polaris explained. “I told him about you while you and I were separated. Charis told me that she looked forward to meeting you… It’s just a pity that they weren’t able to have that opportunity now.”

Her eyes casted down to the child’s arm, a scar branded onto her skin just above the elbow.

“I’ve been noticing this for a while,” Aquila pointed its beak to the sleeping child. “But that child has that ominous smell of death from her.”

“It’s no surprise,” Polaris commented. “Her parents died.”

“No,” the silver bird insisted. “It’s a different kind of death. The kind of death that lingers inside someone and passes it onto its victims.”

“Oh,” Polaris nodded, understanding what Aquila was talking about. “ _That_ kind of death.”

“Do you have an idea why?”

“No,” the woman shook her head in forlorn. “But, I do know when it started.”

The silver bird propped itself beside her and sat down eagerly.

“Please do tell,” the bird nudged its beak to her elbow. “I’m just an ignorant silver breetle.”

Polaris frowned as she began.

“On the day her parents died, there was… a phantom. A shadow. I volunteered to search for provisions on their behalf on that day. When I came back, I saw that entity... that shadow entered into Reina and from there… the poor child… her body became a puppet and engulfed her parents with black smog that was spilling out of her limbs.”

The silver bird dropped its beak wide open.

“I ran as fast as I could. From there, I did what I could to get that demon out of her,” Polaris tightly grasped her two hands together. “And then within that split second, a burst of light emanated from her mother’s hands, vanquishing the shadow out of the child. But by then, her parents were already mortally wounded by the shadow’s hands.”

“’It’s not your fault,’ they kept telling her with their dying breaths,” the woman continued. “It’s not your fault.’ But the girl had an inkling of an idea that her parents’ blood was in her hands, but she was too young to understand what was taking place.”

Aquila bobbed its head towards the sleeping child, then towards Polaris.

“How did you take it?” the bird asked solemnly.

“… I still can’t forgive myself,” Polaris wearily said. “The Frost War; Sacrom; Bart; Genesis; Palus and Charis; how many more failures will I have to go through in order for me to learn?”

“You don’t,” Aquila said. “You don’t learn for as long as your mind-set remains the same. But sometimes the things that you do is a testament of who you are, no matter how hard you try to escape from it.”

“That doesn’t always follow.”

“That is true,” the bird nodded. “That’s why I said ‘sometimes,’ not ‘always.’”

The child’s breathing hitched briefly, causing the child to turn to her side, pushing Polaris’ cloak off her shoulders.

“The scent of death that you sensed,” Polaris said in a low voice as she placed her cloak over Reina. “Based on what I’ve told you, do you think that it’s a curse? Or is it an after-effect of her parents’ passing?”

“It’s possibly a curse. If it was the latter, the scent wouldn’t be as strong as what I’m sensing.”

“Then it’s worse than I feared. Ever since that day, Reina’s shadow had grown ominously large. Worst still, whenever she is angry, sad and afraid or any kind of negative emotion, the air around her becomes thicker, much more difficult to breathe. At night time it is more eminent; the fires would smoulder whenever she threw a fit.”

“Maybe that’s her endowment?”

“No, that wouldn’t make any sense,” Polaris shook her head. “Her parents are light-casters at best. Her father is a Berenian Paladin. Her mother is a Starcatcher. Both blood lines have a natural gift of casting different forms of light; it’s unthinkable to have a child born from strong lineages to have the ability to cast shadows to a point of suffocating other people.”

“A curse then,” the bird concluded. “A curse that brings death to all that harms her… Are you certain that she was born endowed?”

The woman nodded and added; “She has to be.”

The two of them turned their heads to the sleeping child, Polaris took notice of Reina’s long, flowing raven-hair tangled with her arm and face. Polaris gently pulled back the strands that covered her mouth and let it fall to her back. She often remembered how often her own adaptive father had tucked her to bed, reading her stories that no islander had ever heard of until she slept soundly.

“I often wonder,” Polaris spoke in a hushed voice. “Why do we treasure innocence when it is our fate to be sullied as an adult?”

“You’re asking for my opinion as a silver breetle, or my interpretation towards human behaviour?”

“Hmph,” she chuckled. “I keep forgetting that you don’t have a human mind.”

“Just because a bird speaks the human tongue, it doesn’t mean we have the same line of thought as human beings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * A quote from Lloyd Alexander's 4th book of Chronicles of Prydain, "Taran Wanderer"  
> Part 2 will be out at some point.


	8. The Witchdoctor and Berene, the Land of diamonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lore me and my brother wrote when I was 10 years old... I had to rewrite it since I lost the original document ages ago. man. I am old.

Among the many lores and legends within the Mystic Isles, there lies a tale that speaks of a land known as _‘Berene’_ the land of diamonds. Long ago, many tribes from the neighbouring tribes revered this land as the island of salvation; for all who return from that island were cleansed from the shadows within their hearts. In reverence, the tribes believed it was a sacred island; a sanctuary from all the evils that plagued the hearts of mankind. Because of this, the tribes would send those with a troubled soul into this island and would allow them to return after many years.

Then one day, the Witchdoctor came into one of the neighbouring tribes. Since the beginning of the separation of the Mystic Isles, the Witchdoctor wandered throughout the archipelago. For every isle he encountered, denizens of the island were deceived and consumed by the shadows he possesses. No one knew the reasons why he had done the things he did, but every tribe who fell prey to him knew he had already corrupted the hearts of many.

Upon his arrival, he performed faux miracles before the tribe to gain them their favour. The tribe welcomed him with open arms; unaware of his intentions and gave him the highest honour. Then one night the chieftain’s son saw through his deception and reported this to his father.

But before the boy could unveil the Witchdoctor’s deceit, the Witchdoctor killed the boy with his bare hands. When the chieftain saw this take place, he banished the Witch Doctor into the sacred island; believing that the man would find redemption within the sacred land.

When the Witchdoctor was exiled to the island, the holy ground of the island began to purify him of the shadows that lurked within his heart. The Witchdoctor retaliated for the shadows were the source of his own strength. In his rage, he made an incantation to curse the land and those who resided within it.

Many who dwelled within the island died and the rest were possessed by the shadows within his possession. When the Lord of Life saw this take place, he sent the phoenix to purify the island with its flames. But before the firebird could finish its duty, the bird was slain and its corpse disintegrated by its own flames, burning the inhabitants into dust.

All but the Witchdoctor survived the flames, and with his dying breath, he split himself apart to survive; splitting his soul away from his body. The body of the Witchdoctor disappeared to the ends of the earth and morphed into a creature that was fated to travel through time and space in search of its soul. The soul became the shadow demon known to many as ‘Dark Matter’, an entity that possesses the bodies of powerfully-endowed individuals to preserve its existence.

As for all who witnessed this tragedy mourned for the loss of souls within that island as the land was scorched by the eternal flames. After many years, the neighbouring islanders stepped upon this island and found diamonds scattered across the vast landscape. All who knew of its tragedy believed that the souls of all who were exiled within this island were imprisoned within their chrysalis cell.

And the land that was once deemed sacred became known as Berene, the Land of Diamonds.


End file.
